So far from who I was, from who I love, from who I want to be.

So far from all our dreams, from all it means, from you here next to me.

So far from seeing home, I stand out here alone. Am I asking for too much?

So far from being free, if the past that's haunting me. The future I just can't touch.

And if you take my hand, please pull me from the dark, and show me hope again.

We'll run side-by-side, no secrets left to hide, sheltered from the pain.

–So Far, Olafur Arnalds.


Chapter 8: So Far From Who I Was, From Who I Want To Be.

September 1993 – Hogwarts

The first weekend back at school found Hermione searching through the library for books that might give her a hint of what Voldemort had done to keep himself alive. Skimming ancient and dusty texts for information, for spells resulting in immortality, ways of cheating death and dark magic rituals, she had little to show for her efforts. She was going to have to pay a visit to the Restricted Section no doubt; if there were any such books in the library, that would be where they would be found.

The following Tuesday found the Care of Magical Creature class learning about the ever-so-dull organism known as a Flobberworm. The next few classes continued to focus on the uninteresting worm-like being that seemed to just lie there most of the class when not chewing its way slowly through a cabbage leaf. Hermione made the decision then and there to speak to the professor. Despite the fact that Hagrid had little sense of danger when it came to magical creatures, the class could unanimously agree that a little risk was worth it if they could avoid having to learn about such a boring creature for the rest of their classes that year.

Cornering Hagrid as the students began to wander off back toward the castle, Harry and Ron beside her, the witch made it clear that her injury had fully healed and they did not need to continue to drag out the lessons on Flobberworms on her account. Hagrid seemed reluctant, but after the trio listed off some of the creatures that they had been looking forward to learning about, he seemed to gain back some of his lost confidence.

They made the long walk back up to the castle, Hagrid's calls following them, that their next lesson would be something truly spectacular. The trio was already beginning to second guess the decision of getting Hagrid back into teaching a more diverse set of creatures.

The next week went by quickly, and when the following Monday came, Hermione found herself being ushered down to Hagrid's hut after dinner.

"What is up with you two?" she asked as the two boys walking behind her began whispering, only for them to stop anytime she looked back.

"Nothing," they said in unison, only cementing that they were indeed up to something. Coming to the half-giant's hut, she knocked on the door. There was some shuffling inside and barking from Fang before the door was opened and Hagrid blocked the door frame with his bulky form.

"Ah, 'Mione, Ron and 'Arry, come in, come in," he said, stepping aside so they could enter.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HERMIONE!" came the shouts of Harry, Ron and Hagrid.

"What?" she gasped, startled, as she looked around at the random assortment of decorations that had been scattered around the room, and the slightly lopsided cake. A merrily flickering candle perched atop it. "My birthday? I had forgotten," she admitted, truly shocked.

"Come on, 'Mione. Hurry up and blow out the candle; so we can have some cake already," Ron cheered, seating himself at the table next to said cake.

The next hour was a strange experience; she hadn't celebrated her birthday in such a fashion since she was eleven, the year before she got her Hogwarts letter. After that, her parents had started the tradition of taking her out on a special dinner before school started and sending her presents with her to open on the date, not having regular owl access in the Muggle world.

After her parents' death she had completely fallen out of the birthday tradition, barely noticing the passing date at all as the years went by. After her return to the wizarding world Molly had tried to resurrect the tradition, but it had simply pointed out how much she had lost, being surrounded by a family that wasn't hers. She had not expected to be spending her nineteenth birthday seated in Hagrid's hut, eating cake with her two best friends, the closest thing she had to family now.

Taking a seat at the table, she was almost overwhelmed to be presented with a collection of brightly wrapped packages.

"You didn't have to do all of this," she said softly, looking from the gifts to the cake and then to her friends seated around the large table.

"We wanted to," Harry said a little sheepishly. "We wanted to do something after what happened last year. We almost lost a friend, so Ron and I were talking about doing something special to show how much you mean to us."

"We knew your birthday was soon, so we decided to throw you a party with Hagrid's help," Ron added in.

Hermione covered her mouth and barely held back a choked sob, even as her eyes began to water with unshed tears. They had no idea how close they had come to truly losing her and she them, and it made her heart ache at the thought.

That void in her, born of losing those closest to her heart so long ago — for the first time in five years she felt that gaping wound begin to heal. She had lost this, this sense of family, but against all odds she had gained it back, and she wasn't going to let it slip away from her again.

"Aw, don' be upset, 'Mione," Hagrid said, placing a large hand on her shoulder, even as Harry and Ron shared uncertain looks at being presented with a teary girl.

"I'm just so happy," she sniffed, wiping at her moist eyes but not letting the tears fall as she smiled at everyone in the hut. "Thank you."

"Don't thank us yet — you haven't even opened your presents," Ron said awkwardly.

Finally giving into Ron's demands, Hermione blew out the candle on the cake before opening her gifts. There was a wand care kit from Harry, complete with a finely crafted wooden box to store everything in. Both a practical and a beautiful gift.

Ron had gotten her a children's storybook, The Tales of Beedle the Bard. In the first week of school they had gotten into a discussion of childhood stories after the boy had failed to understand a reference she had made. She had taken it upon herself to introduce the pureblood to some of the classics of Muggle fairy tales, including the works of the Brothers Grimm.

Hagrid, always one for clever little wood crafts, had made her a wooden otter charm.

"Why an otter?" she asked curiously, pulling out enough of the long chain from her collar to clasp the charm on without revealing the Time-Turner dangling from it.

"I dun know, honestly. Seemed ta just suit ya," Hagrid said sheepishly.

"Thank you, I love it," she said with a smile just for the large man before speaking to the whole group, "Thank you all so much," hugging each of them in turn. "Now, why don't we try out some of that cake," she declared, wiping the last bit of moisture from her eye.


It was the end of September when Hermione found herself up long before dawn, reading through one of the books she had sneaked out of the Restricted Section. While an interesting read, The Icons and Antiques of the Dark Arts didn't seem to hold the information she wanted, though one of the earlier chapters on rune-engraved objects had given her some ideas to try later.

Setting the book aside, she pulled out another, this one thin, unmarked and bound in red leather. Retrieving a bottle of water that was wedged in next to the bed frame, she propped the book open against her knees before taking a drink. A glance at the pages before her and she was rewarded with the liquid burning up her nose as she choked.

"Ow," she wheezed, rubbing at her running nose with a stray corner of a blanket and trying to stifle her coughing despite the Silencing Charm on her bed. Digging a Kleenex out of her night stand, she blew her nose on it before picking the book up for a closer, more cautious inspection. She flipped through a few pages, finding each was a more elaborate variation of the first.

"How is that even–" she trailed off as her eyes lingered on a particularly exotic rendition that did not look entirely physically possible, nose wrinkling in distaste. "I mean really who would even try tha–Oh!" Her voice caught as another page was turned to reveal yet another set of moving illustrations. She clicked her tongue against her teeth, and her brown eyes followed the drawn figures with the same consuming interest of a cat readying itself to pounce on a point of shiny light just out of reach. The images faded from the page before resetting to repeat. "Okay, that is enough reading tonight," she said as an uncomfortable heat began to creep up her neck, and the book was shut with a snap.

The moon was close to the horizon now as she stowed the books away in an expanded bag kept in her trunk and extinguished her lights. The flames dying in their jars stuck to the bed posts. Pulling on a pair of dark pants and a worn hoodie over the shorts and tank top that served as her pajamas, she slipped out of her bed curtains before grabbing her shoes and sneaking out of the dormitory into the dark hall. Crookshanks followed to sit at her feet as she paused in the common room to pull on her shoes.

She ran a hand through her hair, straightening the bed-rumpled locks and pulling them into a loose messy bun, a few stray curls spilling loose about her face as she moved through the halls. Hands buried deep in the pockets of her sweater, fighting off the predawn chill, she slipped across the grounds to the Whomping Willow, cat following at her heels.

"Go for it, Crooks," she ordered, pausing just out of reach of the tree's thrashing limbs as her feline darted in and hit the knot. Over the summer Sirius had passed on many secrets of the school not privy to most students, including the secret passage that would lead to Mooney's childhood hideaway and the particular knot that would Stun the tree.

Slipping down into the roots, she looked around at the earthen tunnel, taking stock of the layout for future reference. With the bit of moonlight filtering in the entrance through the tangled roots, it seemed to angle off in the general direction of the village. She swiped cobwebs from her hair, remnants dangling from the passage roof, not nearly as thick as they might have been had Lupin not been through earlier and cleared the path.

Turning back, she patted the cat on the head as he sat, tail flicking just beyond the tangled roots.

"Thanks, Crookshanks. You can go back now. You're too recognizable to come." The cat meowed in reply before turning and heading back toward the castle, his bottle brush tail erect behind him.

Creeping further into the tunnel, Hermione was forced to light her wand to see where she was going. Removing all her glamours, she rolled her shoulders, trying to work out a kink forming as she stooped to accommodate the low ceiling. Digging in her pocket, she located a choker necklace and put it on. The accessory was charmed to distort her voice, not much, but enough to not be easily recognized by someone who was familiar with her. She pulled up the hood on her sweater to obscure her features, a simple charm attached to keep her face in shadow.

"Nox," she whispered as she approached a difference in the blackness of the wall that marked the end of the tunnel. Peering through the hole in the upper wall of the tunnel, Hermione could see into what appeared to be a cellar, given the abundance of grimy jars filled with unnamable substances and several dusty shelves lining the stone walls.

Stowing her wand away, Hermione hoisted herself through the two-foot gap between the roof of the tunnel and the floor of the cellar.

"All those years, you would think at some point they would think of making the transition easier," she muttered, brushing herself off as she stood from the grimy floor. Climbing the staircase to the main floor, she entered a living room that was just as grimy and disused as the cellar.

Passing several rooms, Hermione paused at the base of the staircase to hear claws scraping on the floorboards upstairs. She took the stairs cautiously, careful of any squeaky or weak floor boards; back and forth, back and forth the scratching sound continued undisturbed.

Pausing at the top of the stairs, she was met with a single door at the end of a short hall. Approaching quietly to peer through the crack in the partly open door, she was met with the sight of a large wolf pacing the room. He seemed to be overly interested in staring at the worn floorboards as he paced.

He let out a tired sigh. Walking over to the window, Mooney jumped up to place his front paws on the window frame, looking for something. An object clattered on the floor and the wolf hopped down to inspect it with an irritated huff, nosing it right side up so he could get a proper look before gingerly picking up the battered watch from the floor. He went back to the window with the care a mother might show with a newborn cub, sharp teeth careful not to damage the delicate device as it was placed back on the windowsill.

Sirius's Padfoot form was very obviously a shaggy black-furred dog. Despite being rather large in size, his gangly long legs and floppy ears made him look like the kind of animal you would see in a family home, playing fetch with small children.

Mooney was nothing like that: a creature designed with the sole purpose of running prey down from sheer endurance. His legs were shorter than Padfoot's, despite Lupin actually being taller than Sirius, but he was far more muscular than the Grim, with a long muzzle full of fangs perfectly designed for crushing and tearing, and covered in short sleek brown fur that stretched taut over rippling muscles.

The wolf suddenly hunched in on itself with a high pitched whine, muscles rippling like waves on choppy water as bones popped and cracked, shifting in an unnatural manner. It looked and sounded far more painful than the numerous transformations she had seen Sirius do. Whereas in the Animagus transformation, the user's magic was in harmony with the body during the change, a werewolf was different. Part of what made the werewolf virus such a curse was its inability to harmonize with the host's magic; without the wolfsbane potion in their system, a wizard or witch infected with the virus would have to deal with their body being forced through a magical change that worked against the host's own magic. As a result the host was racked with excruciating pain as the virus took full effect under the full moon; by the end of the change the host was overwhelmed, body and mind, by the wolf.

Muggles that were infected had the mixed blessing of a slightly more easy transition though without the access to certain potions, that is if they survived the initial transformation at all. While still painful, without much of a magical core to fight against the virus the change was less jarring. When the Wolfsbane potion had been introduced, it acted as a buffer to temper the virus before the full moon, allowing the host's mind to remain their own but still unable to suppress the virus completely.

All this information filtered through the back of her mind as she slipped into the room while Lupin was too distracted by the change to notice anything even if the house was on fire. She had read over Fowle's research notes, stumbled across them after the facility had been abandoned, probably understood them better on a biological level than even most proclaimed experts. Perching herself on the edge of the scarred dresser, Hermione took in the room; most of the furniture had been broken into pieces long ago. Other than her current seat, the bed seemed to be the only other piece not unusable.

Lupin spasmed on the floor, dry heaving as his ribcage flattened and widened, teeth blunting as his muzzle shrank and clawed fingers grasped at the wood of the floor. Glancing around for something to look at other than the writhing body, Hermione's eyes landed on a small pile of neatly folded fabric on the dresser next to her alongside a wand.

"Son of a–" Hermione cursed under her breath, closing her eyes and mentally swearing enough to make a sailor blush at her own stupidity. Unlike Animagi, when a werewolf changed back, they were in nothing but their skin. Too late to leave for him to get dressed before coming in — the change was already nearly at its finish, as was the distraction it provided. Professor Lupin lay on the floor, groaning miserably and completely naked. Hermione cast her eyes to the ceiling in an exasperated plea; first that book and now this, her day was just shaping up to be full of unresolved sexual situations.

Lupin lay there quietly, shifting slightly so that his head was resting on his bent arm instead of the hard floor. Hermione gave him a moment to get his equilibrium back and attempted to keep her mind from derailing into the gutter by staring at the back of Lupin's messy hair and counting to sixty.

One...two...three...

Lupin's other hand moved and began carding through his hair in an almost self-soothing motion.

Nineteen...twenty...twenty-one...

His fingers drifted down from his hair and began massaging his neck, Hermione's gaze following the movement of his fingers as they moved from the base of his skull down his spine as far as he could reach, trying to work out an obvious tender spot.

Forty-five...forty-six...forty-seven...

Leaving the ministrations of his fingers as they moved back up into his hair, Hermione found her counting interrupted as her eyes began following the contours of the man's broad back, momentarily distracted by the smattering of freckles dusting his shoulders, broken up by the scattering of scars, barely visible from age, that decorated his back and arms.

Her gaze began to drift lower; she shook herself and cleared her throat loudly. Lupin's head shot straight up, with an unintelligible sound that was a cross between a yelp and a growl before collapsing with a groan on the ground again. There were another few moments of silence before Lupin pushed himself off his stomach, head whipping around, looking for the threat in the room.

"Who are you?" he growled out, dilated amber eyes fixating on the dark-clothed figure occupying the area opposite him. His voice was still under the influence of the wolf as his words caught on the 'R's and drew them out into rumbling growls that trailed into the next syllable. Hermione felt an involuntary shiver run up her spine as an excited fear flooded her veins like adrenaline, and for a moment Hermione wasn't seeing the Defense Professor there before her, but a memory of a man turned beast.

When no answer was forthcoming, Lupin took the time to shift into a semi-seated position against the footboard of the bed, but even that small movement seemed taxing enough on the Professor to leave his arms shaking in exhaustion. Hermione blinked, mentally shaking herself from the daze she had slipped into, only to find Lupin eyeing her in a less hostile manner from his new position.

"Oh," she muttered, slipping into French to save herself when her mouth decided it needed to blurt out whatever was passing through her head, "Sweet Merlin, I'm never going to be able to go to Defense again," as the image was branded in her mind of her Professor, whom she saw several times a week, sporting a head of bed-rumpled hair that could even be classified as sexy, all the while being quite naked and leaning against the frame of the broken bed in what could easily be misinterpreted as a seductive manner.

Hermione did her best not to stare, not that he could tell where her gaze was lingering with the hood of her sweater up. She could definitely say with certainty that Moony's muscled form was not entirely the wolf's and briefly wondered why he insisted on hiding it under all those layers of threadbare robes. Her mind briefly went on a tangent of having Sirius introduce him to things such as jeans and T-shirts as she gave the man a cataloging once-over and then another, before she mentally slapped herself and forced her gaze to stay focused above his neck. She had come here because she had wanted to make sure the man wouldn't be in any condition to do anything but listen to her proposition, preferably without his wand in hand; not to sneak a peek at her professor starkers.

"Pardon." Lupin looked at her with equal measures of suspicion and confusion. He shifted himself to his feet enough to maneuver onto the end of the bed, wrapping the dusty comforter around his waist as dignified as he could with shaking hands and seemed to relax a little more now that he was on more even ground with his visitor.

"A friend of a friend, you might say," Hermione remarked evasively switching back to English, thankful the charmed choker was working, making her sound neither wholly female nor male and hiding any embarrassing inflection her voice might have betrayed. "And the enemy of another."

"What do you want?" he asked with a tense calm as his eyes scanned the area around her before fixing on the wand still where he had left it.

"Tell me, Mr. Lupin," she continued, and his eyes flicked back up to the shadowed outline of her face, "would you like to help prove Sirius Black's innocence?"

"What makes you think Black is innocent?"Lupin asked, anger expertly masked in his voice but betrayed by his hands fisting in the ruined comforter. "He murdered thirteen people, including a close friend of mine, and betrayed the Potter family to Lord Voldemort."

"I don't believe that, and I think neither do you," she said, pushing herself off the dresser and wandering to the window, giving him the option of listening to her or making a grab for his wand.

"I don't?" he asked, glancing at his wand but making no move to grab it just yet, before glancing back at the hooded figure.

"No, you don't," Hermione confirmed, picking up his watch for a closer inspection and appearing less of a threat. "If you had really believed without a doubt that he was guilty, you would have told the Ministry about his Animagus form when he was captured or when he escaped. It would have made looking for him much easier, don't you think?" she remarked matter-of-factly.

"How do you know that?" Lupin seemed taken off guard that someone knew the Marauder's secret.

"I have my ways, just like I knew where to find you tonight," she said, enjoying it a little as Lupin's face creased in a frustrated frown while she continued to play the role of the mysterious stranger, leaning against the window frame as if without a care and looking out the window as the sky began to lighten.

"If Black is innocent, then who killed those people? Who betrayed the Potters and killed Peter?"

"That you must see for yourself," Hermione said, looking at the professor, who seemed truly conflicted. Setting the watch back down, she turned to him with open empty hands to emphasize her next point. "I have no proof to show you, but if you wish to find proof for yourself, then I suggest you start by asking the youngest male Weasley about the health of his familiar. You might find something interesting, if you know where to look."

Walking back over to the dresser, she placed a plain wide-banded ring next to his clothes.

"If you find your proof, contact me, and we will meet here again come next full moon. Simply charm the ring to read what you have found, and I will get the message."

Lupin rubbed his face tiredly. "What if–" His voice cut off when he realized the figure was gone and the only sign that they had even been there was a plain silver band, glinting in the early morning light.


Meeting Snape for their usual morning run, Hermione was thankful the man she had known to be so keen on changes in those around him did not seem to notice if she was more distracted than usual this morning. They did not normally speak save a simple 'Good Morning, sir' from herself and some unintelligible noise that served as the Potions Master's version of an early morning greeting. Hermione had learned right away that Snape was not a morning person; at times she wondered if he was even aware that she was there at all.

Heading inside, Hermione took advantage of a long cold shower, trying to rid herself of the images of Lupin that morning. She was doing well until she realized, somewhere around the point of washing her hair, that she had double Defense lessons today. When Ginny questioned her after coming in to brush her teeth to find Hermione cursing up a storm in the only occupied shower stall, Hermione claimed she had gotten soap in her eyes.

Double Potions that morning was strange as Snape seemed to be in an oddly happy mood for being… well, Snape. Which was to say, he didn't torment the Gryffindors as much as usual, which could only mean something was up.

Sure enough, her suspicions proved right when entering their double Defence lesson that afternoon. Hermione had been dreading the class all morning, afraid she might end up blathering like an idiot or drooling like a moron. Instead, they were not met by a cheerful Lupin patiently waiting on them perched on the edge of his desk like normal — or the unclothed one that was equally as cheerful and perched on her desk, which her mind kept bringing up at inappropriate moments. Instead, they were met with a very smug-looking Professor Snape seated in Lupin's chair as if he belonged there. Hermione dropped her head against her table with a thud, startling Ron next to her.

"You alright, 'Mione?" he asked.

"I'm an idiot," she mumbled into the wood; of course Lupin would not be in class today; he wasn't in any condition to teach a class, last she saw him.

Last...She...Saw...Him. Hermione banged her head against the table again, stupid, she was acting like some stupid hormonal-crazed teenager. She was nineteen years old, for Merlin's sake, not some young teen who was a slave to her hormones. If she was that desperate for a shag she might just have to slip off and visit Sirius — he wasn't subtle in the least bit in his interest in her over the summer. No doubt the convict would be up for any attention after a twelve-year dry spell.

"Where is Harry?" she asked, picking her head off the desk and looking around for her other friend, a red splotchy mark beginning to form on her forehead.

"He was talking to Oliver about starting up Quidditch practice next week," Ron answered in a hissed whisper giving her a worried look. "I hope he gets here soon or Snape's going to have a field day. What's that bloody bat doing out of the dungeons anyway?"

"I think I heard something about Lupin not feeling well yesterday," Hermione supplied, very likely the only Gryffindor relieved that Lupin had taken a sick day. "So I guess Professor Snape is filling in for him." The door of the class closed loudly, drawing the whispering students' attention as Snape called the class to order.

"Now, Professor Lupin has not left a record of the topics you have covered so far –" The door burst open.

"Sorry, I'm late, Professor Lupin. I–" Harry sputtered to a stop, when he spotted Snape seated comfortably behind Lupin's desk.

"Ten points for your lateness, Potter, now sit down," Snape remarked with that special sneer he reserved just for Harry when he was caught doing something he shouldn't.

"Where is Professor Lupin?" Harry asked, glaring at the man in black as if he was at fault for doing something sinister, and he remained where he was in the doorway.

"He claims that he is too ill to teach today," Snape remarked scathingly. "I believe I told you to sit down."

"What's wrong with him?" Harry asked, still not moving. Hermione sighed and mentally willed Harry to just sit down and stop being stubborn; Lupin was fine and staying far away from her.

"Nothing life-threatening," Snape said, as if he wished it was. "Five more points from Gryffindor, and if I have to tell you again, it will be fifty." Harry scowled before reluctantly taking his seat.

"Sir?" Hermione said, raising her hand while her cheek was cradled in her opposite hand. She was ready for this day to be over; she had had quite an unusual day and didn't need any more surprises.

"What is it now, Ms. Granger.? Snape said, clearly not amused to be interrupted again.

"I thought you should know, we have just finished Boggarts and Red Caps and are about to start on Kappas," she supplied, trying to get class back on topic and hopefully over quicker.

"I did not ask for information on your past lessons, Ms. Granger. I was merely commenting on Professor Lupin's lack of organization." Hermione stared at him for a long moment in confusion at his biting dismissal, before tonguing her cheek with an extremely visible amount of impudent irritation. She was trying to help, the arrogant git, she seethed, slouching back in her seat.

"He's the best Defense teacher we've had," Dean Thomas stated, causing a number of his classmates to murmur in agreement.

"You are easily satisfied. Lupin is hardly challenging you. I would have expected first years to be dealing with Red Caps and Kappas."

Hermione could feel her temper rising. She had had far too little sleep, and her hormones had decided now was a good time to go haywire over the same professor she was trying to recruit into her inner group. Now Snape's blatant disregard of their previous incompetent teachers was rubbing her the wrong way; despite the fact everyone knew he wanted the position for himself, he had never spoken out about any of their previous teachers like he was against Lupin. Not even Lockhart had received anything less than civil remarks. Snape seemed to have the same unreasonable dislike of Lupin as he held for Harry.

"Maybe if our first-year teacher had not been a stuttering puppet for the Dark Lord and our second wasn't a self-absorbed fraud, then we wouldn't have to play catch-up in our third year," Hermione snapped out loudly, as she began flipping through her book, causing a hush to fall over the class.

"Ms. Granger, since you seem incapable of controlling your tongue, I will be seeing you tonight after dinner for detention, '' Snape shot back. "Now turn in your books to page three hundred ninety-four." There was a general shuffling of pages as books were opened.

"Now, which of you can tell me the difference between a werewolf and a true wolf?" The class was silent save for the turning of pages. When it seemed clear no one else was going to answer, Hermione raised her hand and was promptly ignored. "Well ,well, well, I never thought I'd meet a third-year class that didn't know a werewolf when they saw it." Hermione's eyes narrowed at Snape's crap; she had spent too long with him to not push back when he was being an ass. He had a problem with Lupin, fine, go take it out on Lupin. She wasn't going to sit back while he took out his issues on a bunch of third-years, just because he had a problem with Lupin. Or was it werewolves in general, given the lesson of the day? She didn't care for his reasoning either way.

"You know full well, we are weeks away from even beginning nocturnal creatures. Come back in a month or two, then someone might have an answer for you, Sir," Hermione said, her hand still raised, as she flipped to the instructed page.

"A week detention, Ms. Granger," Professor Snape sneered, before continuing to ignore her raised hand. "No one knows? Such a pity!"

"Would you like me to answer the question, Sir, since no one else here is as much of an insufferable know-it-all, as I am?" she sniped back, mimicking his condescending tone, causing a number of the students to gasp at her nerve.

"Hermione," Ron hissed, elbowing her in the ribs causing her to lower her hand and glare at him.

"Silence, Granger, one more word out of you and I will see you out of this school by dinner," Snape barked, before adding, "a month detention." No one dared to make a sound the rest of the class. When they were finally dismissed to dinner, Hermione was stopped at the door.

"Ms. Granger, report to my office after dinner, six o'clock sharp."


Severus Snape sat at his desk, testing and grading the potions that had been brewed by the third-years that day. At exactly six o'clock there was a knock at his office door.

"Enter," he said, not looking up from the rejuvenation potion he was testing on dead leaves. His door opened and closed before a set of light, nearly soundless footsteps approached his desk and stopped a respectable distance away. He didn't acknowledge the Granger girl at once; he liked to see how long it took them to start fidgeting and crack under the silence. A minute past, then two, then five. By the time he had made it through the last of the Slytherin potions, ten minutes had passed, and not so much as a twitch from the girl. Setting his quill aside, he leaned back in his chair and looked over the third-year Gryffindor; she stared right back, looking bored. Most of his students, even seventh years, couldn't meet his eye without cowering away or simply not looking directly at him, his Slytherins being the exception, and even they had some sense of fear for the Potions Master.

There was no fear of him in Hermione Granger. Brown eyes flicked up from watching his hands work to stare him down, hands loosely at her sides as she waited almost with resigned boredom. Something in the Gryffindor had changed over the summer.

Last year she had been an overly veracious know-it-all that seemed to be trying to excel in everything she did and making a show of herself as she did so. This year was different; she still got the top marks in her year, no question about it, but he would have to be blind not to see the change in her work. The extra work she had been known for doing by all of the Hogwarts teachers was absent. He had thought it a fluke after the first assignment, then possibly the girl's poor attempt at trying to butter him up by lessening his work load. It was only after overhearing Flitwick and Minerva gossiping in the staff room did it become clear that his was not the only class she was cutting back her work in.

There had also been a slightly less noticeable change in her conduct in the classroom as well. She had stopped raising her hand for every question in class, letting others answer or attempt an answer before raising her hand; even then if it was clear that he was not going to call on her, she would lower her hand without a fuss.

He had been surprised that afternoon in Defense by her persistence and the unusual amount of blatant disrespect she had shown. It had been out of character for the witch when Potter and Weasley had not been directly involved; even when they were, she had usually been more the mediator for Potter's disrespectful temper. The brat must have finally rubbed off on her by the look of things.

He was also sure, despite being denied in previous years when she had attempted to gain permission to help Longbottom, he was sure she was still helping the walking disaster in class, given that the boy had been turning in marginally better brews this term. Despite knowing this, he had yet to catch her in the act, and she had made no point of asking him for permission this year, which left him unable to bring up the subject and dock points when the potions klutz brewed a passable draft.

"Come with me, Ms. Granger," he said, finally breaking the long silence between them. "You will be sorting potion ingredients today," leading her into the potion classroom, where on one of the table tops sat a row of empty jars. Beside these was a large crate that gave off an offensively loud croaking sound.

"You will be processing these gangu toads. Dissect and distribute each of the useful parts before disposing of the rest. You do recall the uses of these particular species of toad, yes?" he asked, waiting for the girl to complain. This particular species had been selected due to its fluorescent-colored skin that was only usable if it was removed and placed in a preserving solution within minutes of the toad's death, meaning she was going to be working with live toads.

"Yes, Sir," came the surprisingly still resignedly bored reply instead of the whinging he had braced for. She set her bag and outer robes on one of the unoccupied work stations before rolling up her sleeves. Severus watched all this with equal measures of surprise and amusement at the false bravado the third year was displaying; they would see soon enough how much of this nonchalantness was an act.

He had seen it before; even some adults had a hard time breaking down their own animal ingredients, hence why most magical folk bought their potion ingredients prepackaged. Severus never did; he preferred to buy his ingredients raw or acquire them from the greenhouse when possible and break them down himself. Not only was it more cost effective on his yearly supplies budget, letting him acquire some of the rare ingredients needed for his NEWT classes that would otherwise be coming out of his own pockets or be otherwise unobtainable, but it also gave him peace of mind, knowing exactly where his supplies had come from and that they had been free of cross contamination that happened on occasion in shops.

It also provided an entertaining detention on occasion, watching the most arrogant of students reduced to a pale and sniveling mess when presented with a wiggling flobberworm they were expected to extract pus and other bits from. Granger pulled out a knife from the utensil cupboard, where all the extra knives, stirring rods and scales were kept for those few idiotic students who didn't come prepared for class. Checking the blade, she frowned, before opening a drawer and digging around in it.

Snape watched this curiously as she pulled out a whetstone and began sharpening the knife in a practiced manner, rather than looking for a sharper one. Pulling out a toad, she quickly and surgically slit its throat, then made another cut from belly to tail. A few more cuts around the leg joints and back of the head before she set the knife down and simply peeled the entire skin off in one piece, dropping it in a large tank of preserving solution, still glowing in its fluorescent blue-green color. Picking up her knife again, she made quick work of cutting up and sorting the usable parts before dumping the useless ones in a large bucket.

"You have done this before," Snape stated with bland disappointment, watching her move on to the next toad with the same efficiency.

"No, Sir," she said, tossing yet another skin into the tank before picking her knife up again.

"I find that hard to believe, Ms. Granger." The girl only shrugged a shoulder and carried on.

"Never done toads before. I've done fish, rabbits and several species of rodent. Same concept," she stated, not looking up from her work. Snape hummed under his breath in acknowledgment before leaving her there; he wasn't going to get the disgusted reaction he had been hoping for and didn't have to worry about her ruining his stock. He spent the next two hours grading papers to the sound of Granger's working, until he heard the sink running. Reluctantly he stood to go check to make sure the girl hadn't cut her hand open or something of that nature.

Entering the lab, he found all the jars he had laid out, neatly labeled in Granger's curvy handwriting on the now cleaned work table, the empty toad crate sitting to one side. Granger was over at the wash basin, washing her hands and knife. She was just returning the blade to its proper place, when she noticed him.

"Anything else, Sir?" Snape hadn't planned on this. He was sure the bookworm would have trouble doing the task he had set for her; that crate was all he had at present and was supposed to last her two or three days. He was going to have to rethink this punishment before Monday. On the upside he would end up with a lot of quality potion ingredients; it helped, having someone doing the work who actually knew what they were doing; he rarely used it as a form of punishment since usually he was forced to throw a lot of the ingredients out due to the students' not paying attention on how to properly remove the useful parts.

"Not at present. You are dismissed." As she gathered her things and headed for the door, he almost thought he saw her smiling like she had been the day he had made her brew her potion with one hand; like they had been playing some sort of game, and she had come out on top.


One evening while Hermione was headed to the library to look for more books to help with her research, she spotted Ginny sitting in a chair by the window, her Charms book open, but her attention captured by the rain hitting the window. Hermione was struck with the realization that she had been ignoring the one student in Hogwarts that had interacted with the Dark Lord the most, even if it had only been a memory.

"Hey, Ginny," she said, coming to sit by the girl and drawing her attention away from the window.

"Hey, Hermione," Ginny greeted softly, dark shadows lingering under her eyes. The girl's need to isolate from her peers was a growing concern of the Weasley brothers, but they were unable to address it. Ginny would shut them down at any attempt at a conversation concerning any of the events of last year. Percy had been the least concerned of the boys and took Ginny's claims of being okay at face value, most likely believing it so as some form of way to rid himself of his own guilt after how he had treated her last year when she had tried to ask for help. Ron was at a loss on what to do, though he did try in his own way, attempting to coax his sister out of her solitude with things she enjoyed, like a round of Quidditch, but the distraction only lasted so long. The twins seemed to have the best results bringing their sister out of her shell, knowing just what things to say to bring out that rare laugh or smile, but nothing lasted long.

"How are you doing?" Hermione asked, and the redhead seemed to steel herself, having been asked the question far too often by her brothers and having grown agitated at the repetitiveness of it all.

"Fine," Ginny replied automatically in a tone meant to dismiss concern, looking down at her Charms book in a gesture that said she was too busy to talk. Hermione could see right through the act; she knew first hand what it was like to be bombarded by queries on events too painful and personal to discuss. Memories you just wanted to bury deep in the past but night after night would come back as vivid as the day they happened.

"You don't have to lie to me if you're not okay, you know. It is alright to not be fine all the time," Hermione said, pulling out her own textbook. "It helps to talk sometimes."

"There is nothing to talk about," Ginny bit out, not liking where the conversation was going and seeming ready to run.

"I know you're still having nightmares."

"Who told you?" Ginny froze in accusation midway through closing her book.

"Because I know," Hermione said honestly. "I know what it's like to sit in a group of people who only want to help but couldn't even imagine what you have been through. To walk down familiar places and only remember the dark things that happened there. I know what it's like to be too scared to fall asleep because next time it might turn out not to be a dream."

"I don't want to talk about it," finally came the reply, as she stared vacantly down at her text book but not seeing it.

"Not yet you're not, but someday you are going to want to, and I wanted you to know you can come to me when you are ready. No matter the time or what you say, I won't be angry or ashamed or pity you," she said, resting a hand on the girl's shoulder as she stood. "Know that you're not alone, Ginny," Hermione said, giving a solid reassuring squeeze to the girl before she collected her own things and moved further into the library; now she would have to wait and let Ginny come to her.


Hermione had come back early from her second week of detention; she had made it a game to get done with whatever task Snape had given her within three hours. He seemed to have caught on now, after her fourth early dismissal, and had taken to finding more time-consuming tasks for her to do.

Opening the portrait hole, she was met with shouts of

"Shut the door—"

"Stop that cat—"

Before she could react, Scabbers took a flying leap out the portrait hole, followed closely by Crookshanks, with Ron and Harry clambering out after them.

"Hermione, catch your bloody cat," Ron accused angrily. "He's been stalking Scabbers all night."

"I told you to leave him at home, didn't I," Hermione shot back, as she had said on the ride to the train station, a number of cats had gotten involved into hunting Scabbers, with her own cat being the most persistent; Hermione had a feeling that Crookshanks was behind the other cats' involvement.

Running down the hall after the two animals, Hermione found the cat perched outside a crack at the base of a statue, his tail twitching back and forth.

"Come here, you silly cat," Hermione chided, picking the cat up and away from the hole, so Ron could get his rat out.

"What's going on here?"

Hermione internally groaned and resisted the urge to run in the other direction as Lupin came down the hall; she had been doing her best to avoid him since the Shrieking Shack incident. So far she had been doing well, if she kept her eyes on her book in class and steered clear of him afterward, which was made easy since she had detentions that lasted until late.

"It's Scabbers, Sir. Hermione's cat chased him out of the dormitory, and now he won't come out."

"Your pet?" Lupin questioned, crouching down next to Ron to peer into the hole.

"Yes, my rat, got him from Percy in first year," Ron answered. "He's been sick since we got back from Egypt this summer."

"Have you had a Healer look at him?" Lupin asked, a little too interested, as he looked between Ron and the hole.

"Yeah, they say it is just his age catching up with him."

"You said, you had had him for three years, that sounds a pretty normal lifespan for a rat," he said, reaching into the crack, his longer reach giving him an advantage over Ron's shorter arm.

"No, Sir, I've had him three years, yes, but he has been in the family for twelve."

This bit of information gave the Professor pause before he pulled the rat in question out of the crack. Looking Scabbers over, he froze when he saw the rat's front paws, as recollection struck him just before Ron pulled the rat from his hand and tucked it safely into his pocket.

"Thanks, Professor," Ron said, as he and Harry ran off back to the dorm and their exploding snap game.

"Are you okay, Sir?" Hermione asked, still cradling her cat in her arms.

"Hm," Lupin looked up at her, twisting a silver ring around his middle finger, lost in thought. "Yes, yes, I just have something on my mind. Good evening, Ms. Granger," he said before heading toward his office.


The next morning the silver locket she had hung on the chain with the Time-Turner grew warm against her skin during her morning run. When she finally headed back inside for her morning shower, she opened it to see one word written in it: 'Peter'. That was all she needed to know — he had figured it out. An owl was sent out to Sirius before breakfast; they had a change of plans for the first Hogsmeade trip of the year.

The early morning of Halloween found Hermione once again making her way through the tunnel to the Shrieking Shack. This time she waited until she was sure the professor had plenty of time to dress before entering; Lupin was sitting slouched forward on the end of the bed, elbows resting on his knees.

"I knew it," Lupin said, looking down at his hands, "I knew, deep down, Sirius could not have done the things they said he did. He wasn't a cold-blooded killer, he idolized James. Peter—" he growled out the name, his wolf still close to the surface. "Peter had always hung out with us but always in the background;we took it all that he was just being shy, but even when we left school, he always seemed to just hang about on the outskirts of the group. I think that's why no one suspected he had faked his death. No one expected the innocent shy boy to actually be a spy for Voldemort. He and I were never really close, he was more of James' friend than anyone's, but I never dreamed he would betray us like this," Lupin gave a bitter laugh, "never thought he had the balls to do something like this. He was always the first to scarper the moment things began to get interesting."

"So, now that you know the truth, what will you do?" Hermione asked, folding her arms and perching herself on the edge of the dresser.

"I want to help. Whatever you need me to do, I'll do it if it means clearing Sirius's name and bringing Peter to justice," he said, standing quickly before gripping the bed post to keep himself upright.

"Good. Will you be fit enough to sidelong Apparate by nine o'clock?" she asked, getting right down to business. There were a lot of things to do today, and even with the Time-Turner it was going to be hectic.

"I should be able to," he said, standing a little straighter, only to end up dropping back down on the bed, "but where to?"

"Meet me outside the Shack at nine," she stated, pushing off the dresser and moving to leave. "

we will be going to meet Mr. Black. He is expecting you."

"Sirius – wait – you know where he is?" Lupin pleaded, lunging to his feet only to stagger slightly. "I can go now."

"I have some things to put in order first." She waved him off, to sit back down before he hurt himself. "I should also warn you, there is a lot of information about what Black and I are doing that I can't tell you, unless you take a vow of secrecy. If any information got out, it could get a lot of people killed, including Harry Potter. Black has taken this same vow. You may speak with him before you make a decision, if that would help."

"I'll do that, if you don't mind." Lupin said, and Hermione nodded before slipping away.

Leaving the werewolf to recover, Hermione went straight to breakfast. She and Snape did not meet on weekends, a chance to sleep in for the both of them if they took it. Hermione was usually still up early and going through one book or another that had been 'borrowed' from the Restricted Section.

After breakfast she and Ron left the Great Hall to wait with the rest of the students while Harry talked to McGonagall. After a short discussion, Harry turned to them with a miserable shrug and a wave. He had not been able to get the permission slip signed over the summer before the debacle with his Aunt Marge.

"We'll bring you back some stuff, don't worry, mate," Ron called as the students began to file down the path to the main gate toward the village. Hermione spent a few hours exploring with Ron. It was a quaint little village, and the pair browsed each of the shops on the main street. She eventually slipped away from him in Zonko's Joke Shop, claiming to go look in the local bookshop when it was growing close to lunchtime; it was sure to keep him busy for a while, and he wasn't likely to go looking for her there anytime soon.

Moving to a deserted alley, she slipped on the sweater, the one she had taken to wearing to meet Lupin. A couple turns on her Time-Turner and the removal of her glamors found Hermione strolling up the path to the Shrieking Shack before the students had even begun to arrive. Lupin was already waiting there, no surprise, given he just had to make the short trek from the house on the hill. She could tell he was still not feeling his best as he leaned heavily on the fence.

"Ready?" she asked, coming up beside him, causing the man to jump violently.

"Must you sneak up on me all the time?" he asked, hand over his heart. Hermione didn't answer, only held out her arm to him. He took it, and they Disapparated with a crack.


Arriving in the back garden of Hermione's house in Hook Norton, she was forced to wrap an arm around the professor's waist as his legs buckled. She just managed to right them both before a large black dog came bounding forward and knocked them both to the ground in an ungraceful heap.

Padfoot was happily barking, rolling all over Lupin with all the energy of a hyperactive puppy but none of the size. Lupin was in tears as he laughed and threw his arms around the neck of the Grim.

Once the pair had finished their greeting and everyone had been untangled, Hermione led the way into the house, letting Sirius in first so he could regain his human form. He threw his arms around Lupin in a proper greeting.

"Sirius," Remus said, pulling back and looking over his friend; he barely recognized him with the new look – blue-grey eyes and long black hair replaced with brown eyes and short brown hair. "That is you, isn't it? What happened to you?"

"Yeah it's me, Mooney. Come on, I'll tell you all about it," Sirius began excitedly as the pair headed off into the living room without a backwards glance. Hermione went to the kitchen, setting the kettle to boil before going to retrieve three mugs. She made the tea the Muggle way rather than simply magicking the water hot, giving the two friends some private time to talk before it was time to get down to business.

Resting her elbows on the counter, she looked around. There was a collection of silverware filling the sink, and a strange smell was coming from the overstuffed trash. Apparently cooking and cleaning weren't one of Sirius's strong suits, given the collection of tv dinners piled high in the garbage. Digging around in the back of a cabinet, she found a package of biscuits she had stashed there. Brushing some dust off the package, she set the snacks out on a plate just as the kettle began to whistle.

Sirius was just finishing his tale of his trip to the Muggle mall when Hermione reentered the room, juggling the tray of filled mugs and plate of snacks. Setting everything out on the coffee table, Hermione sat in the chair across from the pair.

"So, Mr. Lupin, have you made your decision?" she asked, picking up her cup and taking a moment to admire it before taking a sip; it was part of a mismatch set she had picked up at a thrift store. She had never actually seen the movie, but apparently it had become quite popular over the summer. It was a simple black mug with the white outline of a bipedal dinosaur above the words 'Clever Girl'. Lupin took the more elaborate red mug bearing a black and white dinosaur skeleton logo, under which was written in bold lettering 'Tea-Rex'. This left Sirius with a similar one, only with a goat outline instead of a dinosaur, which read 'Where's the Goat?'

"I need to know before we can start explaining anything," she added while Sirius helped himself to several of the biscuits with a look that said I knew you were holding out on me. As of yet she had not removed either the choker nor her hood. If Lupin did not agree to her terms, then he could not be allowed to find out who she was, and she would keep the disguise for any further interactions. "Will you take the vow?"

"Yes," Lupin said after a glance at his friend, who gave him a nod of encouragement. "Sirius says you could use my help, so I would like to help if I can, especially if it involves clearing Sirius's name."

Like she had done with Sirius, Hermione bound Lupin magically, so that he could tell nothing of what they were discussing to anyone without her permission. If he were to do so, it would be met with harsh repercussions. Spell done, Sirius clapped his hands enthusiastically and moved away from Lupin on the couch, so he had a better view of the pair.

"Okay, I'm good now. You can show him," he stated as if she had been waiting for his approval all along.

Hermione rolled her eyes, though it was not visible to her guests. Rubbing his hands together with glee, the Animagus looked from one to the other; if Hermione had made popcorn, she was sure, he would have been sitting there eating it. Instead he sat back with a stack of her favorite chocolate biscuits balancing on his knee and was eating them with exaggerated enjoyment.

"Oh, grow up, Black," Hermione complained as she refrained from tossing any nearby object at him, like she had taken to doing when he was being particularly annoying.

"Show me what?" Lupin asked, looking from Sirius to the stranger he still didn't know the name of.

"We already know each other and see each other several times a day," she admitted, trying to figure out a way to break this news to the man gently. Sirius had been easier since she had been pretty honest with him from the start. Lupin, on the other hand, had two months of knowing Hermione Granger the student, and now she was about to dump something entirely insane on him. "Hence the hood and altered voice. The dog is just getting way too much fun out of this," the witch added, setting her tea cup down on the coffee table.

"Who are you exactly?" he asked, now even more confused. He tried to work out who he knew that would fit with this person's general description.

"Actually, I think it might be best for me to explain some things first before I tell you," she decided. "I think it might lessen the shock a little."

"Aw, come on, that is not fair, I got to see you before you told me," Sirius whined, crossing his arms in a petulant pout.

"You weren't introduced to me as my younger self first, so you don't get special treatment," she shot back.

"Tell me what!" Lupin shouted, having finally had enough of all the double talk going on around him, as he looked from one to the other for answers. Hermione sighed and settled in for the coming explanation, giving the professor her full attention.

"This might be hard to believe, but I'm from an alternate future. The wizarding world was in a second war with Voldemort, and we were losing, badly. So, with some help, I found a way to come back. It was a one-time chance and I took it. I came back and took the place of my younger self, with the intention of heading off key moments that led to the war. Hopefully to stop the war from even starting." Hermione sat back in her chair and let the information sink in. Lupin was quiet for a long time; a couple times he opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, shaking his head. He glanced at Sirius as if to look for proof that they were having him on but got nothing other than a nod of acknowledgment and an amused smirk.

"You are from the future?" he asked, finally breaking the long silence.

"Yes."

"So you know what is going to happen," he asked in disbelief, spreading his arms wide in a broad gesture, "to us."

"More or less," she admitted. "I'm not a Seer or anything, but I do have a basic idea of the main events that led to the war. I wasn't involved in any of it until it was already a lost cause, and by that point all we could do was damage control," she shrugged, taking another drink of her tea.

"You know how completely insane you sound, right?" Lupin exclaimed, running his hands through his greying hair, making it stand up oddly.

"Insane it might sound, but what Emma says is true," Sirius said, leaning over the gap to pat his friend on the shoulder.

"Emma?" Lupin asked, testing the name and trying to place a face to it.

"Emma isn't my real name, it's just an alias I use when I am not glamoured to look like my younger self," Hermione stated, before Lupin could give himself a headache trying to place the name.

Letting out a sigh, she removed the choker and placed it on the coffee table. Standing, she tugged at the edge of her hoodie, pulling it up and over her head before discarding it on the back of the chair. Pushing her curly pony-tail back behind her shoulder, she plopped back down in her chair to face her teacher, bare scarred arms folded over her t-shirt clad chest as she waited for the inevitable reaction.

"Hello, Professor," she greeted, crossing an ankle of her opposite knee as she reclined back in her seat.

Lupin stared.

Then it hit him, and his mouth fell open in shock. Sirius began cackling madly at the other end of the couch, nearly choking on his stolen sweets.

"Where is a camera when you need it?" the dog wheezed between laughs. They were like that for a minute, then two, before Hermione shifted to waving a hand in front of Lupin's face. This seemed to break him out of his internal thoughts. Blinking, he shook his head.

"Ms. Granger," Lupin said in disbelief, looking at her from head to foot, trying to come to terms that the studious girl from his third year class was the same woman in front of him claiming to be from the future and harboring his best friend. Sirius, on the other hand, seemed to finally be getting a handle on his laughter, wiping tears from his eyes, but still chuckling.

"Yep," she said, popping the 'p', as she picked her tea back up and taking a drink. "Though, if we meet in public and I look like this, it's Emma, Hermione Granger's wizarding guardian, while her parents are out of the country," she stated, gesturing at herself in reference.

"Wait then," Lupin cut in as his brain finally began to process again and questions began to arise. "Where is the real Hermione —I mean the one from this time."

"It is safer for her that I don't tell you any specifics, but she is with her parents far from here at a safe location."

Lupin nodded in understanding. Muggle-born families were forced into hiding in the first war; it would be expected she would want her family out of the way, should things go bad at the very least. He had not even begun to process the whole time-travel, from the future Bludger he had been hit with.

Lupin was quiet for a time, seeming to be sifting through all the information he had just gotten, and the other occupants gave him the quiet to do so. Suddenly attention was drawn back to him by a choking sound as his face turned white, then a shade of red that began creeping down his neck.

"Oh, Merlin," he said, a look of horror on his face, as he buried his flaming face in his hands, "It was you — last month in the Shack. I thought you were a guy." Hermione choked on her tea.

"Ah, I had really hoped you forgot about that," Hermione muttered, setting her cup down after she had managed to stop coughing, a faint blush creeping across her cheeks. "I honestly didn't mean to walk in on you like that, I didn't think anything of it after having him shifting around the house all the time." She gestured at Sirius, who seemed quite out of the loop. "By the time I realized my mistake, it was too late to leave. Between you and me I'm glad you skipped class that day, even if it meant I got a month of detention."

"Wait, what am I missing? What happened last month?" Sirius asked excitedly, as if his favorite soap opera had just come on, if Hermione had owned a TV, that is. He had taken to visiting the kindly old lady next door, where he could watch 'Passions' and eat cookies every afternoon.

"You don't need to know," Hermione stated, turning her nose up at the pleading dog.

"Aw, come on, you know I'll get it out of Remus eventually, so why not just tell me now. You know I won't let this go till I know." Hermione sighed before giving in. Sirius was bound to tease them both, but like he had said, he would get it out of one of them eventually; he was admirably persistent that way when it came to getting answers.

"Fine, but you won't be hearing it from me, and if I hear so much as a snicker," she threatened, "I'm kicking you where the sun doesn't shine." Sirius turned his full attention to Remus who was beginning to return to his normal pallor. Looking up from his hands to see Sirius eyeing him expectantly, his resolve crumbled, unable to deny anything, even an extremely awkward and embarrassing story, from his friend after so recently getting him back.

"She walked in on me when I was changing back." Sirius simply stared, not understanding what he had to be embarrassed about. "Werewolves' clothes don't change with them like you Animagi, remember?" Sirius was quiet for a moment then, it clicked and his eyes started shining with suppressed laughter.

"Ooooh," he drawled out, before turning to Hermione with a knowing grin. "See anything you like?"

"Sirius!" Lupin barked as he sputtered out mortified, "she–she's a student, sort of — you can't just say things like that!"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Hermione shot back at the dog, glancing at Remus who had taken refuge in his hands again before giving Sirius a very obvious once over and making a sound of disappointment.

"Hey," Sirius retorted at the obvious blow to his ego, before he gathered up her empty mug and stood to walk from the room, intending on seeing what there was to scrounge up in the fridge for lunch.


"So, what is it like, being back at school a second time through?" Lupin asked when they had all sat down to eat the simple sandwiches Hermione managed to put together with what little Sirius had in the house. "I guess I am understanding now how you got to be known as the brightest girl in your year."

"It's not really my second time through, just picking up where I left off, I guess. Everything you have heard about me was the genuine first and second year me," she admitted. "A little over a week after I got back from my second year, I was on a ship with my parents to France when we were hit by a storm. Or would have been, I guess ,since I stopped them before they could leave." She paused, pondering the proper way to address something in one's past that was no longer something that actually happened, shrugging she went on. "Ended up on an island until I was seventeen. So the only formal training I have had was up to the second year courses. I managed to pick up a few things over the years, but that is about it. I'm still getting used to using a wand again."

"You know how to do wandless magic?" Remus asked, genuinely intrigued.

"Oh yeah, non-verbal too," Sirius answered for her "You should see her. Makes it look like child's play. I can't even manage a simple levitation spell, even with the incantation."

"Had to learn, it took me a few months to get the hang of it, but like a friend of mine used to say, mortal danger is a good motivator." She set down her sandwich and pulled out her wand to show it off. "Lost it in the shipwreck. This is actually my younger self's wand. Olivander's wasn't exactly an option when I got back to London, and since I've come back it would have been suspicious if I had changed wands over the summer along with anything else that might be off."

"How are your friends taking this change? I am guessing they don't know your secret." Hermione shook her head in the negative, in answer to Remus, while her mouth was full of turkey and tomato sandwich.

"Have they begun to suspect anything, you were rather vague in your letters?" Sirius asked.

"I don't think so. Honestly, it has been hard, it is hard enough seeing them after all these years. Not to mention I never paid much attention to how I acted around Harry and Ron when I was younger. I'm sure my mannerisms have changed a lot, at the very least, but so far they don't seem suspicious, so I must be doing something right."

"Stranded on a deserted island, guess that's one way to avoid the attention of all those drooling teenage boys you would have surely attracted," Sirius said flippantly, but he didn't bother hiding the obvious interest on how she would answer the obvious dig for information. He still knew little of what had happened on the island; four years was a long time for nothing to happen and leave a lot of scars, from what he had glimpsed. Now seemed the right time to pry since she seemed in such a sharing mood.

Hermione snorted as if something in Sirius' statement had amused her. "You know full well I never said the island was deserted. Your fishing technique is horrendous, but honestly I'd have preferred the drooling hormonal boys."

"The contrary being?" Sirius egged on.

"The men on that island were less looking for a date and more intending on capturing me to give to their boss to use as a lab rat, raping me or killing me; mostly all of the above, and I hate to think in what order," she stated with little emotion on the subject before taking a bite from her lunch. Sirius took the information rather well, having guessed as much from what little bits of information he had gathered, though he had hoped for something not quite so dark. Remus on the other hand was openly horrified by the revelation as he looked over her more critically.

"Is that how you got these?" he said angrily, catching one of her wrists and turning her arm to the scars that were visible. "Did those men do that to you?"

"No, those were from my friend," she snapped, tugging out of the contact and rubbing her arms a little self-consciously. When she had first gotten back from the island, she had been traumatized enough to recoil from the most innocent of touches, but Molly had persistently seen to it that she learned to build a tolerance for spontaneous hugs and the like. After a time it was only intended probing at her scars, that managed to invoke a negative response from her.

She didn't mind talking about them, or even the stares that often accompanied people finding out about them. She had grown used to it in her time; even by the standards of those fighting in the war, the extent that she was scarred was severe. Talking and staring she could deal with, but touching she was not used to. Even on the two occasions she had taken a man to bed in her time, she had not allowed them to linger long, more interested in getting off and then on with their lives, rather than pay any attention to why their partner looked to have been mauled by several angry animals and then some.

"Your friend cut you!" Lupin stated, more upset than she seemed to be at the idea.

"No, he was teaching me to fight with a knife," she defended Halt vehemently. "I just wasn't very good at it at the time."

Seeing he may have delved too deep into a sensitive topic, Sirius changed the discussion to direct the conversation more toward Remus and how he was enjoying being back at school as a teacher, no less. This eventually led into a discussion about Harry and what he was like, how he was doing in his classes and other such things. The two old friends seemed to become swept up in reminiscing about when Harry was born and what they had theorized about what he might excel in — Charms like Lily or Transfiguration like James — and other such little things.

Hermione simply sat back and watched the pair, wondering if her life would ever be normal. Here she was a time traveler sitting down to lunch with a werewolf and a convicted mass murderer. What would her mother have thought about all of this, she mused. Probably that she must have some sort of spell that attracted all the strange and handsome men to her side, not that she was complaining. Despite what she had implied to Black earlier, he was an attractive man now that he had recovered from his incarceration, and she was still adamant that she needed to have the dog talk the wolf into some clothing a little more form-fitting.

"So, are you guys any good at fighting without a wand?" she asked curiously, feeling like she needed to take advantage of the chance to flirt while she could, since Lupin was unlikely to appreciate any advances once her glamour was back in place, and Sirius would be stuck at home.

"I'm adequate at wandless but not with any of the more complex spells," Lupin admitted and looked at Sirius.

"No, seeing as at the moment I don't even have a wand," Sirius said glumly, holding up his empty hand, "and I'm rubbish at wandless magic."

"I remember this one guy I met," she began, a sly smile on her face as she stood and busied herself gathering up the plates. "We met at this little wizard pub near King's Cross, I can't remember the name now. Anyway, not the point. He was making a big deal about something or other, and I ended up punching him. We ended up in a grappling match on the floor after he lost his wand; I was surprised — he was pretty well-trained for a wizard. He had reach, I had flexibility," she said deliberately, leaving off there as she headed toward the kitchen.

"Who won?" Sirius asked the inevitable question, and she paused in the doorway.

"Don't know," she admitted, leaning against the door frame. "It ended in a draw when the barkeep threatened to throw us out, so we ended up having a tie-breaker in his room. He had reach, I had flexibility," she said, an almost innocently coy smile pulling at her lips with her next words, "We still never did find out who won."

"If you ever want some lessons," turning to leave the room fully, she called back, "you just let me know."

"Did she just—" Lupin started, not quite sure if he heard what he thought he had.

"—I think she did," Black finished as they both stared at the empty doorway.


After lunch saw a change in Hermione as she went into business mode. They had had their fun; now she needed to sort some things out for that evening, gathering in her office after conjuring another chair for Lupin.

"Now, to catch Lupin up on what has been going on so far in capturing Peter. I have been trying to get a hold of him since the start of term after getting him to remain at the Burrow failed. I have done what I can to try to catch him, but most of the time he is with Ron, and I can't sneak him out without Ron knowing. When he does manage to sneak away when no one is around, I have Crookshanks keeping track of him, making sure he doesn't leave the castle," she said, lacing her fingers together on her desk. "What I need is some way to track him when he is not with Ron, so I can get him alone. This is where you come in, Sirius."

"What can I do?" Sirius asked, ready to actually do something rather than wait on word from Hermione.

"Tonight is the Halloween feast, which means the whole dorm will be empty. I need you to sneak into the fifth-year boys' dorm and search through the Weasley twins' possessions until you find a particular bit of parchment. One that contains a map I hope you will recognize."

"A map, you mean the Weasley twins have our map?" Lupin asked, intrigued by the appearance of the thought to be a lost childhood item.

"Yes, and I need it, but being a girl I can't get access to their dorm without someone in there to let me in, and you know your way around a prankster's trunk. They are bound to have some sort of security to keep their things from being messed with. Your being a Marauder, I would expect you to have some experience in avoiding such things."

"I'm a little rusty," Sirius stated, cracking his knuckles with a grin on his face, this was a challenge he would happily accept, "but I'm sure I can get it out without too much trouble."

"Good, then we have a plan."


Author's Note. First of over 6,000 hits and 83 follows YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME.

Next Chapter 9: Lying Awake I'm Still Hearing The Cries-Cue the Mission Impossible theme Hermione and the Maurauders are breaking into the most dangerous of places-a pair of prankster's trunks.

Edited-12/04/17

German Translation by the wonderful and patient Alea Thoron.